“You can’t discuss this with her,” Hamilton barked. “I don’t care what she told you, this is not her case and she has to stay away from it.”
“So you don’t want me to tell her that the confession stands?”
“Oh.” Hamilton looked a bit rebuffed. “Well—yes—you can do that.”
“Like I need your approval,” she muttered under her breath as she walked out of the office. Checking her phone for the time, she knew she would need to call her sister. “Hey Sierra,” she said when she picked up. “I’ll be a little late tonight.”
“How late?” she asked in her innocent voice that gave away her Downs Syndrome even over the phone.
“Hour max. Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” she whined. At twenty-one her sister had graduated high school and worked almost full time at the Panera a few blocks from their apartment. Evening was when she had trouble. She needed structure and lots of it. If Ashleigh wasn’t going to be home before six at night, she needed to call. By eight, she would need to call in a sitter.
She loved her sister and had since she’d been born, even when her parents didn’t. They stayed in the picture enough for Sierra until Ashleigh turned eighteen and could take on guardianship, then they disappeared. Although it was hard on Ash, she’d had years to prepare for it. Her parents would take trips for a month at a time, leaving her to deal with her disabled sister. The growing pains they tolerated from Ashleigh were a burden from Sierra.
“What are the rules?” Ashleigh asked.
“No cooking, no going out and no answering the door.”
“Good. How about I grab you some tacos from Del Taco Especial?”
“No fish.”
“No fish, I know.” Ashleigh glanced over at Harper who was being held by her husband on a bench and knew she needed to finish this up first. “I’ll try to be home before seven.”
“Good, because iCarly’s on then.”
“Got it saved,” she said. “Be safe on the walk home.”
“Geez, it’s only a few blocks.”
“Too long for me. Love you Sierra.”
“Love you too.”
Ashleigh walked over to her friend and her husband. “Bail hearing is in the morning.”
“Jason told us.”
“I should be in there too,” Montgomery Long said. “I can’t believe Miles ran his mouth like that.”
“It was his wedding present to us,” Harper said as she patted Monty’s hand.
“About that,” Ashleigh confessed. “Hamilton was going all rabid dog in there, so I helped him figure out how to keep the confession in.”
“Judas,” Harper snarled.
“No, the confession is the least of your problems. Hamilton is trying to turn this into first degree murder.”
“How the hell—?”
“I’ve got it covered,” Ashleigh assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m working on the inside. Tonight should be the only night Miles spends in jail.”
“And my dad?”
“Should be the same. Now, let me get back to prepping ole dumb ass on bail hearings.”
The door to the interrogation room opened down the hall and Jason came out first, followed by Miles Long. Ashleigh didn’t remember him from trial prep and she knew she would have. He had a roughness to him that Monty didn’t. Not violence, but a hard outer shell. His jaw was tight and when his coffee colored eyes caught hers, she held her breath. Biting the inside of her lip, she tamped down the jolt she felt, not knowing if it was attraction or fear. He admitted he’d killed someone and no matter what Harper said, only a certain type of man was willing to take another’s life.
With a white button down shirt strained a bit at his biceps. Trim, but firm and she suspected…cut too, just based on his line of work. A rancher, better yet a cowboy, who showed it in his idea of formal wear: black jeans and boots. Somewhere a hat was in custody that would complete the look.
“We’ve got you tomorrow morning first thing,” Monty said as Miles walked past.
His cologne hit her. Damned, if her eyes didn’t flutter a bit until she turned and saw his tight ass.
Killer, she reminded herself and men weren’t in the cards for her. Not when she still had to raise her sister. She’d tried and failed a few times in the past. Now, she satisfied her sexual needs with one-night-stands because anything more was too much for guys. Even the ones older than her. It was one thing to take on a kid, another when they had a lifelong disability that meant never moving out.
* * * *
If nothing else, the last thing Miles got to see before being booked and tossed into an orange jumpsuit was a hot woman. He didn’t know who his brother was talking to when he’d been escorted by, but the blonde had curves he could focus on for the night. He’d been stuck in a cell with two other guys who decided peacocking was the way to show power.
His uncle strode in with his blanket and plastic pillow about five minutes in and cleared his throat. “Not in my room,” he growled. “I’ve had enough shit from enough people today. The last thing I need is your pussy asses in here for a DUI or some such shit to fuck up my time at the county’s expense.”
“Who you think you are pops?”
Clevon’s hand went around the taller one’s throat as he slammed him up against the cement wall.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” a guard asked as he stood in the doorway.
“Just decoratin’ the wall. Not sure if he matches the décor though.” Clevon released the man who gasped a few times before retreating to his bottom bunk across the room.
“Keep it civil.”
“Wouldn’t know another way to live.” Clevon dumped the bedding on the open bottom bunk and looked at Miles. “I’m not sleepin’ topside.”
“Right Unc,” he replied and moved his stuff up.
“MeMaw’s doin’ good. Pissin’ off the medical staff and threatenin’ to take the cane and stick it up…well, you know your grandma.”
“You all related?” their genius of an attacker asked.
“No.” Clevon shook his head. “He just calls me uncle because we’re black, so we’re all related. Fuckin’ morons. Here’s the deal. You’re either here for some petty shit or waiting on trial. Either way, deep meaningful conversation isn’t gonna be part of our stay here. Comprende?”
The men grumbled as they left the main cell. Hopefully, they’d stay away until lights out when Miles assumed they had to be locked away. With two bunk beds against the back wall and four feet between them. It wasn’t big enough for four people. Then a metal toilet, sink, and four small cabinets the size you’d see in a bus depot. Miles prayed his lawyer wasn’t lying. He was used to stepping outside whenever he needed fresh air. This room didn’t even have a window. The door was open, but he knew soon, it would be closed. This room was smaller than the bathrooms in his house. Say what you want, but the Long’s were a privileged group. He knew it. Although he worked the land, he also enjoyed its bounty.
“You think they have a library?” he asked his uncle.
“Probably, but you ain’t getting in it tonight. We missed dinner too. I think they lock us in around nine and we’re done until morning, so you’ll just have to escape another way.”
Miles climbed up on his bunk and closed his eyes. Books had been his escape his whole life. When he didn’t want to work or needed to get away, he would grab one and disappear somewhere on the ranch. As long as he made it home before the sun set, he was good. The avid reader in him would have to come up with his own characters and that wasn’t his forte. Left to his own devices, he tended to get lost in bad memories and that was the last thing he needed.
Angel Salazar had a reputation at Tender Root High. Miles knew it, everyone knew it, but he’d never judged a person by what others said. He judged them by his interaction with them.
“Tell me something Miles,” Angel said as she flipped her long black hair to one side and the sunlight streamed through to make her tanned skin glow. “Have you h
ad a year without a study hall?”
“I’ve never had a study hall,” he replied meekly. “I’m only in here because we have a sub and it was too loud in the classroom for me to read.”
Angel’s eyes blinked a few times as she tried to process what he said.
“Mr. Washington thinks I can’t handle it.”
On the table was a slip of paper and the catalog for classes offered. Angel was filling out her class requests for the next year. Mr. Washington was more like a dream killer than guidance counselor. His mother had put him in his place when he said college might not be in Miles’ future. There was no question if Miles would go to college, it was the where in question. Mr. Washington couldn’t see past the ranch when he looked at the Longs. Obviously, he didn’t know they all had degrees. Even MeMaw had earned one when women didn’t get degrees, let alone black women.
“What classes does he have you taking?”
“Is there a choice?” Angel asked. “I thought we all basically took the same classes. History, math, English.”
“There are levels. Honors and such,” Miles explained.
“Washington would never let me take honors.”
“He wouldn’t let me either at first. Funny, they decide what we’re capable of based on our parents.” Washington had even tried to put Miles in a class for those who would be the first in his family to go to college. It integrated community college propaganda. That conversation with his mother brought out her inner Lynn Whitfield. Class with a bit of ‘fuck you’ right behind it.
“Then I’m screwed. Don’t know my dad and my mom works at the Discount Mart.”
“Here.” Miles snagged her schedule and the course book that was more of an oversized pamphlet. “What do you want to do when you grow up?”
Angel let out a small laugh then caught herself. “Seriously? No one ever asked that.”
“Well, it’s the first thing a guidance counselor should ask. How else would you know if you should be taking chemistry or Kirkman’s literature course?”
“What are you taking?”
“It’s about you, not me,” he replied even though he would love to have her sitting next to him next year in lit.
“Fine, but it’s stupid.”
“What’s stupid?”
“I thought about being a nurse or something.”
“Then you do need chemistry.” He scanned through the catalog and wrote out the code. “How did you fair in Bio this year?”
They spent the better part of the hour figuring out a schedule that would help her get into college. A track he’d been on his entire life, so it wasn’t hard for him to plot out for Angel.
When the bell rang, she took the registration card and gave him a little smirk. “Any chance you’re free this weekend?”
“There could be.”
Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn’t sexualized at first. With him, she could have been a preacher’s daughter, not the wild one, but the one who wears soft cardigans and sun dresses. She didn’t know how to be with him because his first instinct wasn’t to get in her panties. They talked for hours. His family picked on him daily. Even his brother Monty who was down in junior high knew Angel’s reputation.
“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” Walt asked with a nod down the hall as he pulled books out of his locker.
Miles turned to see Angel standing in a circle of guys.
“You can’t turn a ho into a housewife. You know that right? Bet you money, if I call her she’ll come over to me.” Walt closed his locker and leaned against it. “How about you have to take my chores for a week?”
Miles tasted the bile rising in his throat as he watched Angel laughing in a group of guys.
“Angel,” Miles called out, attempting to do it the way Walt usually did to get his girlfriends to snap to. He received a half-hearted wave before she headed off to her class.
“And you’ve been sleeping with her exclusively for how long now?” Walt asked Miles as he pushed off and went to his own class pulling a girl from a conversation and tucking her under his arm before calling back to Miles, “Might need to wake up an extra hour early tomorrow.”
After school, Angel bounded up to him as he stood by his truck. “You gonna give me a ride home?”
Miles scanned the girl he’d fallen for. Fallen hard for, even though all signs had pointed to heartbreak. Her finger glided up and down his arm and scorched his skin. No longer willing to sit on the sidelines, he cupped her cheek with his hand and tilted her head back. Capturing her lips in a way he hadn’t in the past. He wanted her to be his and his alone. He’d thought he had made that more than clear. Now, he marked her. In front of God and everyone, he did what the guys who’d screwed her and moved on had never done.
“Why did you do that?” she asked when they broke from the kiss.
“You’re mine.”
“I’m no ones.” Angel pulled away. “I’ll find another ride home.”
Miles felt his chest caving in on him as she hopped into the front seat of a senior’s car. He’d treated her special and she spit on him. He held her, laughed with her and gave her soft gentle kisses. Angel had told him her dreams and he didn’t dismiss them like the others. Still, it wasn’t enough. As a Long, it was nice to have someone not fawning all over him. A pedigree afforded him by generations of hard work that made his family the wealthiest landowners in the county. Top five in the state. That made him a catch, but Angel had been the first one to not ask him to take her out. Pay for dinner at a place fancier than Good Eats.
After Angel, no one could touch him. He dated for the sole purpose of bedding a girl. Never again, would he be boo-boo the fool.
The lights flicked on and Miles jumped from his thoughts. A few moments later, a buzz was followed by a click echoing through the small room. He hadn’t slept much even with his uncle on the bunk below. He was jumpy and not sure if he was safe, let alone his family and his family came first. Right now, that’s what he needed to focus on. Federated Gas had unleashed thugs on his brother’s wedding… who knew if their ranch was still safe.
“Unc,” he called.
“I’m still here.” Miles heard his uncle’s feet hit the ground. “Our roomies stayed on their side of the room. Let’s get some food. Our hearing is in a few hours.”
Chapter Three
Pulling her hair up into a tight bun, Ashleigh smoothed the few bumps from her natural curls before applying her makeup.
“Why you need to do that?” Sierra asked while she stood with a bowl of Oaties.
Ashleigh took it from her hands and set it on the sink. “Table only. The last thing I need this morning is to be cleaning up a spill. You know better.”
“You eat standing up.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Is too,” Sierra retorted. At barely five foot tall, her sister’s small stature did have a firm base, but even with her physical therapy, her grip and balance weren’t what they needed to be. “I’m not a baby.”
“Of that, I’m very aware,” Ashleigh replied and booped Sierra’s nose with her blush brush. “Want some?”
“Don’t need it,” she mocked. “I’m a natural beauty.”
“And for that, I’ll forever be jealous.”
Ashleigh finished up and drove her sister to the coffee shop where she worked. Only six hours a day, then Sierra would take the bus to a group care facility for the rest of the day until Ashleigh could pick her up. Being one of the oldest ones there, the staff made her a caretaker to the younger kids.
Once Ashleigh got to her office, she was met by Hamilton. She’d never seen him this anxious. It set her off balance to be greeted by a smile. “Morning.”
“I’ve been up all night,” he began with a jittery bounce. “Looking over federal statutes. I might be able to charge these four guys with terrorism.”
“You know one of those men is married to Harper,” Ash replied and reached for Hamilton’s energy drink.
“Details.�
� He shook off her comment, but let her take his elixir of life. “Do you know what this could do for my career?”
“Have you read the police report?” she asked, afraid of the reply. “Seems like self defense.”
“Oh…right,” Hamilton replied as he hopped from one foot to the next, like a boxer. His words were halted as he tried to figure it all out. “You—do this with Harper, right? Try to play defense—to make her offense stronger.”
Ashleigh tossed the can in the garbage and powered on her computer. “Or, they shot at the people that shot at them.”
“They became a public menace when they went beyond the initial attack. Chasing them down the block, that almost moves it to premeditated murder.”
Closing her eyes Ashleigh breathed in deep. He had the JD, she repeated over and over in her head. “Hamilton, they have been terrorized on their ranch all this time and this office has failed to act. Now you’re going after a family for chasing down the ones who shot into a crowd? Did you watch the news last night? Even the media is calling them heroes.”
“They are?” Hamilton slowed down and rested his arms on the top of her cubical. Beads of sweat peppered his forehead.
Ashleigh had to stifle a smile. Who knew with the proper motivation, Hamilton could actually be productive? Well, not so much productive, but willing to crack more than his knuckles.
“Shit, I was studying last night trying to see how much I could tack—”
The front door swung open and Harper Maxwell-Long… Ashleigh assumed, but she may just be a Long, walked in with her head held high as if her husband wasn’t on Hamilton’s list of the newly convicted. The whole innocent until proven had been lost on Hamilton. Too many years of people taking deals made him assume everyone was guilty. That’s the difference between petty crime and the big stuff. Harper had taught Ashleigh that over the years. She wished every case was black and white because the gray sucked ass.
At Long Last; Book 4 of the Long Ranch Series Page 3